About 100 area residents stalked the streets of Metuchen dressed as zombies on Sunday, splattered with fake blood, wearing intricate makeup and donning torn clothes – all to bring a half-dozen heaping laundry baskets of groceries to two local food banks.

The idea came about a few years ago when organizer Tyreen Reuter, a self-described "local busybody," was getting very little sleep due to the needs of her newborn child.

"I feel like a zombie," she had said. Her children chimed in that they loved zombies. And, with inspiration from Asbury Park, an idea was born.

Or, for those who are very uncomfortable with the notion of the walking dead who feast on the living, a nightmare was realized.

This reporter asked a participant whether it was possible that one person in attendance was actually a zombie, a sort of undead wolf in sheep's clothing dressed up as a wolf for Halloween, and if we were all foolishly letting our guard down. Without missing a beat, this very cruel man shouted and lunged at this reporter. Reports of this reporter jumping back several feet and being sincerely, not-at-all-joking terrified could not be immediately admitted to.

In fairness, zombies are horrifying. Reuter explains that, unlike vampires, who are susceptible to such common household goods as garlic, zombies are almost impossible to defeat.

Another explanation: Zombies represent a breakdown of the social order. They represent a contagion that will turn your friends and family into monsters who, instead of loving and supporting you, want to eat your face and/or brains.

Which is why, in spite of the general uneasiness that the presence of zombies can rouse in certain people, Sunday's event was not as scary as those certain people with irrational fears had feared. The purpose of the event was to support the local community, to help those in need. Not very zombie-like. That's Halloween: playing against type.

The group started at the Colonial Cemetery on Main Street by the train station, posing for pictures while trying to put on a scary face. They ended up at the Old Franklin Schoolhouse on Middlesex Avenue, where they dropped off the food. Some costumes were quite involved and appeared to have taken some time and effort. And some brave little kids dressed as zombie-slayers, with toy cap-guns and cowboy get-ups.

Reuter said that in the past, food drives have been abstract notions about helping others. Hurricane Sandy put that all into stark relief: "It was all right here," Reuter says.

The community-minded Reuter, wearing a get-up that involved a green wig and a pasta strainer, was among the least scary of the monsters there.